Groundwire Remix
by Midnight Unicorn
Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are not all they seem.
1. Chapter 1:First Year

**Title: Groundwire Remix  
By: Midnight Unicorn**

**This is my challenge/counter/whatever you want to call it to Midnight Genius' _Groundwire_, which is a fine fic, just all the mush made me gag. This is my version of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter behind the scenes.**

**Each chapter takes place over a full year at Hogwarts, except the first part in _italics_ which is when they are seventeen.**

**The _underline/italics_ before each section tell you where in the book this could have happened (Canon is important to me). The page numbers are all from the hard-back American versions.**

**Warning: there will be slash later (it's a pairing fic after all) but the first three years/chapters are clean. I don't know how citrus-y it will get; I'll tell you when I get there. The rating is for what is to come.**

**Disclaimer: the usual, not mine, no money made. Hell, the title's hardly mine.**

**Please review, particularly mistakes you spot, and…on with the fic!**

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_I hate him for what he is to me, for how he makes me feel, for the things he has done to the people I love and my chosen family he had threatened again and again. I hate him more because I love him. But what I hate most is that I don't hate him at all._

_Anywhere between pages 131 and 134_

"Oof!"

"Watch it—oh, it's you, Potter."

Harry scowled at the blond he'd run into turning a corner, flexing his sore wrist as he sat up. "Nice to see you too, Malfoy. How's Goyle's finger?" He said it nastily but he actually wanted to know.

Malfoy picked up on that and physically recoiled from the dark-haired boy, quickly gathering scattered papers. "He's fine," he answered warily. "What do you care?"

"I don't," Harry replied hastily, shoveling his books and parchment into his bag. His curiosity got the best of him, though, and he paused, still half-crouched. "Malfoy, were you…were you trying to be nice to me in Diagon Alley?"

Malfoy froze for a moment, blind sided, and then scowled. "So? That was before I knew who you were." He threw his ink bottle into his bag and thrust himself to his feet.

"Exactly," Harry murmured as Malfoy strode away.

_Page 143 or 144_

"Looking forward to flying, Potter?" Malfoy announced his presence to the lost Gryffindor with the malicious query.

"Get lost, Malfoy," Harry snapped, trying to remember if the left or right turn would take him to the Gryffindor common room.

"You look like you already are," Malfoy sneered. Harry glared, confirming the assumption. "It seems the great Harry Potter isn't so great, after all."

"What are you doing here, then?" Harry demanded. Malfoy grimaced revealingly. "You're just as lost as I am. Don't go looking down your nose at me, you spoiled bully."

"Spoiled bully? That's the best you can manage?" Malfoy said, almost incredulous. "Pitiful. Take the left corridor until you reach the tapestry of Marcus the Selfish, then behind it is a staircase that goes down to the Entrance Hall."

Harry blinked, surprised. "Thanks." And went left.

Malfoy gaped after him; he had been telling the truth but he was surprised the green-eyed boy had believed him.

_Page 152_

Harry was still in a daze as he left the empty classroom. He made to go back outside, decided against it, turned toward the Great Hall and stopped, picking a blank stretch of wall to lean on. He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his messy black hair, a reckless grin slowly uncurling on his mouth.

"I don't see what there is to smile about." Malfoy had come up on him silently, his pointed face strangely contrite.

"What do you know?" Harry dismissed, still giddy as his victory set in. "Who would think I had such a talent?"

"It's wasted if you get expelled." Malfoy said quietly and his discomfort particularly intrigued Harry. "I, uh…don't tell anyone, but I came to explain what happened."

Harry's first instinct was to dispel his peer's fears but he caught himself; he must not forget Malfoy was a bully and had put himself in this position. "Why?"

Malfoy scowled and scuffed his foot. "I don't know," he said abruptly, turning to go. "Just forget it. I don't care what happened to you."

"Well, that's fine since I'm not going to be expelled," Harry said loudly to the blonde's back.

Malfoy kept walking but his shoulders were a little more relaxed and Harry realized that the other was more than swagger and nastiness.

_Page 166_

"Why did you bother challenging me if you weren't going to bother showing up?"

Malfoy scowled just as darkly as Harry was when the Gryffindor confronted him between the library shelves. "Are you a complete idiot?" he hissed. "Why would I risk expulsion just because you called me a coward?"

"You _are_ a coward, a treacherous coward." Harry wanted to shout at the blond but resisted in the library's hush.

"I'm a Slytherin." Malfoy's coldness brought the enraged boy up sharply. "We will do what is best for ourselves. You are a Gryffindor and by nature honorable and a glory-seeker."

"I don't care about glory," Harry snapped. "I've already got more than I can stand and I haven't _done_ anything."

Unexpectedly Malfoy laughed at that but quickly muffled it. "That I can believe," he said with a faint, lingering smile. He shifted to pull a thick book from a shelf two above his head. "Here; this'll help you in Charms."

"Thanks," Harry accepted it distractedly. "I still don't see why you're brushing off last night based on our houses."

"Hasn't anyone explained anything to you?" Malfoy sounded genuinely surprised. "It's just how the school works. We shouldn't even be talking now; Gryffindors and Slytherins are like oil and water."

"I still don't get it," Harry insisted stubbornly.

Malfoy just shook his head and left to sign out his books.

_Page 170_

"You are somewhat talented."

Harry couldn't help throwing a grin over his shoulder at the blond following him to the abandoned locker room. Neither of them thought anything of a Slytherin in the Gryffindor locker room, or if they did neither commented. "I guess I am. Did you really do all those things you'd said before that flying lesson?"

"Mostly," Malfoy nodded. Then he smirked wryly. "Maybe a couple things were a _little_ exaggerated; I really did almost run into a helicopter, but the pilot was a wizard."

Harry snickered, bending over a porcelain sink to scrub his sweaty face.

"Father was furious; he almost took away my broom." Malfoy continued. "Mother talked him out of it, though. You really didn't have any experience with Quidditch?"

Harry hesitated, and then shook his head. "My aunt and uncle didn't let me play sports much at all." he dried his hands.

"Why not? What'd they expect you to do all day?" Malfoy wasn't asking maliciously or seeking leverage, he was simply conversing.

Harry hesitated again; Malfoy wasn't Ron, he was a bully and a Slytherin, but just now they were as casual as they were with their dorm mates. Malfoy noticed his silence and hazarded a guess.

"They didn't want you around?" he ventured carefully and Harry nodded reluctantly. "I don't get it; I can think of half a dozen families—even a couple Slytherin families—who would've been honored to raise the infamous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Why stick you with unwilling Muggles?"

Harry flinched. "Well, my mother was muggle-born. My aunt was her sister."

"Oh." Malfoy watched the other boy disappear behind a stall to change into clean robes. "I guess I knew that, but I always kind of thought about you as a pureblood; I think most people do. Potter is a known pureblood name."

"Well, aren't I still? Both my parents were witch and wizard."

Malfoy didn't feel particularly inclined to get into blood lineage. "I guess. I'm heading back."

"Right; can't be seen with a Gryffindor." Harry's voice was muffled as he tugged on a shirt.

"Exactly." He paused. "Do you want to practice some time?"

Harry frowned and leaned around the partition to analyze the blond. "Practice what?"

"Quidditch."

"With you?"

"I'm the only Seeker offering."

"You're a Seeker?"

"I will be."

Harry paused, considering. "Sure; why not?"

_Page 180_

"Potter! Are you an utter nutcase?" Harry could feel a grin tugging his mouth as Malfoy hailed him, Crabbe and Goyle abandoned. "What made you think you could take on a mountain troll? And how were you not expelled?"

"Must be Gryffindor bravery," Harry replied, the high of triumph returning with the memory. "Good for something it seems."

"Yeah, like dulling your survival instincts," Malfoy rebuffed.

"Hermione was in danger and it was our fault," Harry defended.

"What'd you do?" Malfoy asked, intrigued that Harry Potter had endangered another student.

"Ron and I…er, we went looking for her because she hadn't been at the feast, and we saw the troll, so we locked it in the bathroom." Harry had flushed a light pink of lingering embarrassment, stopping in the empty trophy room, scanning the awards idly. Malfoy was listening with fascination and a little bit of derisive humor. "We didn't know Hermione was in the bathroom as well, so we had to do something."

"You knocked it out," Malfoy added dryly.

"Actually that was Ron," Harry corrected. "I just distracted it."

"_Just_ distracted it? Merlin, you _are_ insane." There was almost awe alongside his scorn. Harry grinned. "Do you realize you should be dead, or at least expelled?"

"Saving Hermione gave us some credit," Harry pointed out.

"I'm sure," Malfoy agreed, mouth twisted oddly.

_Also page 180_

"Not fair; you have a better broom!" Malfoy complained loudly as the pair raced up and down and around the pitch.

"Why don't you ask daddy-dearest to send you yours?" Harry taunted, whizzing in circles around the blond like a demented satellite.

"Because I'm not everybody's favorite who can get away with breaking broom restriction rules." he retorted.

"You're Snape's favorite, what—whoa!" Harry jerked the broom upwards when Malfoy veered toward him sharply. "Hey!"

"Don't lose focus," Malfoy scolded. "And I'm not the Boy Who Lived; people are less inclined to give way for a spoiled…bully!" he emphasized the last word as he shot towards Harry. The smaller boy retaliated and successfully struck the fraying tail of Malfoy's broom, which had already been vibrating as they flew higher and higher. The blond lost his grip and slid off his seat, dangling from the broom by his fingertips.

He wasn't there for more than a moment before Harry realized and about-faced to pull up under him, leaning back so Malfoy could balance on the handle of his Nimbus. "Oops." he said sheepishly as the Slytherin glared with enough venom to make a snake jealous.

"I can't keep riding this stupid thing," Malfoy grumbled, dragging his 'borrowed' school broom to a level he could mount it.

"I'll let you ride my Nimbus if you promise to discourage the Slytherin team from sabotaging ours," Harry offered recklessly.

Malfoy's gray eyes went wide. "Seriously?" Harry nodded. "I will. Race you to the ground!" he pushed the tired old Cleansweep faster than when it was new and the pair touched down at the same time.

Malfoy almost didn't give Harry time to dismount before taking his seat and shooting into the darkening sky. Harry couldn't help grinning as Malfoy let out a resounding whoop of elation as he zipped around the pitch, looking like a Golden Snitch in the final fanfare of the sun's bright glow with red and blue streaks vying in the background.

Harry moved to mount the Cleansweep and join the blond when he paused in contemplation. He could not see the face of Draco Malfoy as he flew fast and free but judging by his smooth, controlled movement he could certainly picture it. He wondered if this was what he looked like as he looped through the sky, like time had no meaning and absolutely nothing mattered.

That sunset seemed to last forever.

_Page 181_

"Cold, cold, cold," Malfoy mumbled, stomping through the frosted grass just outside the school. He'd been bitten by a plant in Herbology and Sprout had sent him to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had said he could return to class but Sprout hadn't instructed him to so he was stuck outside, waiting to go to lunch.

"Don't you have a class?" He was surprised to see Harry strolling towards him, hands tucked in his pockets, cheeks reddened by the cold wind.

"Some plant bit me," Malfoy explained, holding up his lightly bandaged hand. "Now I've got nothing to do but freeze my arse off. What about you?"

"I was visiting Hagrid."

"Why?" Harry looked confused. Malfoy glanced away. "I mean…er, that's nice." He couldn't have sounded less sincere if he'd tried.

"D'you have something against Hagrid?" Malfoy could tell Harry was ready to flare up in defense of his friend.

"No, it's just…" he paused, choosing his words. "I don't understand why you'd choose to hang around with a grounds keeper when he's basically a servant. I mean, you're Harry Potter."

Harry seemed very interested in the ground as he answered in a low voice. "Hagrid allowed me to get away from the Dursley's. I only know who I am, _what_ I am, because of him. He's my friend; he bought me Hedwig."

"Oh," Malfoy said faintly. "Okay."

Harry raised his gaze. "Hermione taught us a Warming Charm. Want to learn it?"

_Page 184_

Harry stood outside the Great Hall, ahead of the rest of the student body but the last of his team to go down to the field. He was trying to convince his shaking legs to actually step through the great oak entrance doors.

"Potter." he almost didn't hear the low call. His legs were much more willing to turn around.

"Malfoy." he greeted numbly. He thought Malfoy's sneer almost quirked towards amusement. Then he glanced around warily.

"Don't worry," he said quickly, but sincerely. "You can do loops around anyone out there. And take this," he pressed a napkin into Harry's hand and backed off hastily.

Harry watched him take the marble stairs two at a time and then looked down at the napkin. The grease from the sausages was already slicking his hand through the paper. Not feeling particularly hungry he bit into a link; it was thick and greasy in his mouth, but he found he could walk at a steady pace to the distant Quidditch pitch.

_Page 194_

"Oi, Potter!" Malfoy called when the victorious Gryffindor passed him on his way to Transfiguration two days after his first Quidditch match. Harry stopped. "Told you you'd be fine."

"Just congratulate me already," Harry teased.

"Why would I ever congratulate a Gryffindor on anything?" the blond said archly.

What was meant to be a light comment brought Harry smashing back to the House divisions. "How about for staying on a bucking broom," he said darkly.

"Yeah, that was strange," Malfoy frowned thoughtfully, shifting his bag to his other shoulder. "Pretty impressive bit of dark Magic; it wasn't anyone from our team, though, I know that for a fact. I've been asking but no one is taking credit."

"Wait, you're trying to find out who tried to kill me?" Harry gaped, thoroughly startled.

Malfoy looked surprised as well. "Kill you? I thought someone just jinxed it to make you lose focus and look stupid."

Harry opened his mouth to spill his suspicions about Snape, but Malfoy could hardly believe that someone wanted him dead, let alone that it could be his own House Head. "I guess you're right," he mumbled.

"Don't be so melodramatic, Potter. Not everything is life and death, you know."

_Page 199_

"Malfoy…"

"What Potter?" His gaze darted up and down the corridor; there was no one else, but that wouldn't last.

"Happy Christmas," Harry said sincerely.

Malfoy blinked, surprised, and then one corner of his mouth quirked in an amused twist. "And to you." He switched his trunk to his other hand. "I really am sorry, you know." Harry tilted his head in confusion. "About not being welcome at home."

Harry shrugged. "This is home," he said simply. "See you later."

"Yeah. G'bye."

_Page 216_

"Would you believe the first thing Oliver does when we get back from holiday is practice?" Harry complained genially when he spotted Malfoy as he left the locker room last.

"Nice to see you to," the blond smirked. "Have fun?"

"Most definitely. There's nothing more entertaining than zooming around in sub-zero air, two hundred feet above seven feet of snow and ice," Harry replied aridly.

Malfoy snorted in amusement. "I meant over the holidays."

Harry grinned, then shuddered as cold wind blasted down his collar, teeth chattering audibly. He drew his wand and cast a Warming Charm over them both. "It was fantastic; wizarding party crackers are much better than Muggle ones, although I lost my mice," he added regretfully.

Malfoy snickered, but sobered quickly. "Did you get any presents?" he actually sounded slightly anxious.

Harry smiled faintly. "Yeah; I was kind of surprised."

Malfoy returned an equally small smile. "Good. Though I expect I got more than you did."

Harry rolled his eyes but conceded. They stood in the cold and bantered because their interaction was not welcome in the castle's distant warmth.

_Page 221_

"I have a question for you," Harry murmured to Malfoy through clenched teeth. He had doubled back after potions, telling Ron and Hermione he had forgotten a book. Crabbe and Goyle had been conspicuously absent during class.

"No, I don't know why Snape is refereeing," Malfoy said automatically, gray eyes cold on Harry's bright emerald. "No one does."

"While I'm dying for an answer to that, that's not my question," Harry replied dryly, catching Malfoy's arm to stop his rapid strides. The blond shook him off impatiently but waited. "Could you teach me the Leg-Locker Curse?"

Malfoy rocked back a step, blind-sided. "What?" Then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Is this a round-about path of revenge for me catching Longbottom?"

Harry shook his head. "I'd've already done something if that were the case. Honestly…" he flushed slightly with embarrassment. "I'm terrible at Charms. You only can't tell because I don't get as flustered and frustrated as everyone else. I need help."

"Well, I knew that," Malfoy teased. Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure. Trophy room, half an hour after curfew?"

"No snitching," Harry stipulated warily.

Malfoy sneered and agreed, hurrying away. Ron complained about how long Harry had taken as he dove into his lunch.

_Page 228_

"Your problem isn't that you're not good at Charms," Malfoy said to him, breathing hard through his nose. The full moon was their only light, illuminating the Quidditch pitch eerily in the late winter chill. "Or anything else for that matter."

"Huh?" Harry inquired elegantly from his prone position on the frosted grass, chest rising and falling swiftly.

Malfoy, straightened, slowing his harsh intake of air. "You just don't care. If you focused and actually cared you'd probably have grades like Granger's." Harry laughed breathlessly, disbelieving. "I'm serious," Malfoy insisted stubbornly.

"There is not a first year that can compete with Hermione," Harry said firmly. He rolled onto his stomach. "Except at chess." He sat back on his heels, hands braced on his knees.

"Still, you're not stupid or incompetent."

"High praise," Harry remarked.

"Honest assessment," Malfoy countered seriously. "But don't let it go to your head and—"

"Don't tell anyone, I know," Harry sighed habitually, pushing himself up. "Let's go over something else."

"Like?"

"Snape."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Snape? Why?"

"D'you know if he'd got something against Quirrell?"

The blond frowned. "Only what everyone knows, the Quirrell got the job Snape wants. Did something happen?"

"Sort of. He and Snape were arguing—actually Snape was terrifying Quirrell after our match against Hufflepuff."

"What about?" Malfoy asked keenly.

Harry almost _almost_ told him about everything; the Sorcerer's Stone, Nicolas Flamel, Fluffy, Snape, his invisibility cloak…

"Couldn't tell; Snape was too quiet and Quirrell was a stuttering mess, but it looked interesting. They were part-way into the Forbidden Forest." Harry replied, casual and light.

"Hm." Malfoy intoned, frowning thoughtfully. "Strange."

"Yeah."

_Page 235_

"Malfoy!

The blond turned neutrally to meet Harry's blazing emerald eyes. "What Potter? I have a class to get to."

"What are you going to do about Hagrid's…pet?" Harry demanded, caution overtaking anxiety as he glanced around for eavesdroppers.

"You mean the—" he began, sneering. Harry jumped forward as though to cover his mouth, hissing silence, green eyes narrowed to slits.

"Don't say it," Harry growled, gaze darting about. "Please, Malfoy, don't tell anyone. Please."

"I won't," Malfoy assured in a low tone, utterly serious. "But you have to convince him to get rid of it. You could get expelled for concealing it."

"Yeah, I know," Harry sighed tiredly, running his fingers through his unruly black tangles. Then he laughed weakly and held out his hand. "I'm so nervous I'm shaking."

"Or you could be hungry. You hardly pick at your meals," Malfoy pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess. You're really not going to tell?"

"Really."

They didn't bother with farewells; people were approaching. It wasn't until he sat down to supper that Harry realized Malfoy had clearly implied he didn't want the Gryffindor expelled.

_Page 245_

Harry and Malfoy ran into each other quite by accident after supper a couple of evenings after they'd been caught out of bed because of Norbert.

"Why?" Harry asked, too drained to be angry, though that bubbled under the numbness.

"I had to," Malfoy sad, just as detached; they wandered, aimless and slow in the direction of the library, enough space between them for three students to pass. "It was actually Pansy who found the letter; if I didn't claim the glory she would've gone to Snape and you would've lost more than fifty points from Gryffindor. I didn't _plan_ to do anything, but I couldn't stay in my dormitory."

"We heard you tell McGonagall when she caught you." It was hard to guess Harry's reaction.

Malfoy flinched visibly. "So sorry I'm not as quick-witted as you," he muttered caustically. "I couldn't come up with a lie. And if she believed me, well…"

"You're a Slytherin," Harry murmured. "You'll do what's best for you."

For once, Malfoy was ashamed of that.

_Page 262_

Harry expected Malfoy to avoid him, but the blond practically cornered him between the library and Gryffindor Tower the day after their detention.

"I'm sorry," he said outright. "I just—"

"It's…fine," Harry said slowly. "I would've run, too, but I was too scared. I wish I _had_ run."

"Who was it? Did you see—?" he frowned half in disappointment and half in suspicion when Harry shook his head quickly.

"They had the hood up." He knew better than to tell Malfoy he though it had been Voldemort under the cloak. "And a centaur came and chased…it away."

"Centaur? But I thought—"

"A couple other of his kind scolded him for saving me," Harry continued.

"Did something else happen?"

"No." Malfoy didn't believe him but he couldn't pursue his suspicions.

They hurried in opposite directions as a couple chatty fourth years came around the corner.

_Also page 262_

"Gyah!"

"Look out!"

Books tumbled to the floor, though this time they stayed on their feet. "Merlin, Potter, watch where you're going!" Malfoy snapped crossly.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled as they stooped to gather their books and papers. "You're in a hurry," he observed, then a wince crossed his pale features.

"A bit. Snape's promised to review with us one last time before the exam—are you alright?" He finally noticed Harry's frown and rubbing his lightening bolt scar.

"My scar hurts," he admitted thoughtlessly. "I've a headache."

"You look peaky; have you been sleeping well?"

"Not really; I've been having nightmares. Nerves I guess."

"I guess…"

"You should go," Harry said quickly. "Snape won't appreciate you being late."

"Yeah, see you later."

Sometimes Harry wondered why they bothered. They didn't have much in common, their meetings were confrontational or accidental and their only connection was their love of flying. And no one would ever accept them as friends. But then he thought of Diagon Alley and remembered why he tried, but he still wondered why Draco Malfoy bothered.

_Pages 267 and 268_

"But this is important!"

Malfoy paused, held his place and leaned toward the corner.

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?" That was McGonagall. Why was Potter arguing with his Head of House?

"Look Professor—it's about the Sorcerer's Stone—"

Malfoy's gray eyes went wide with recognition and his hands flew to his mouth. Of course he had heard of the Stone but Potter was talking like it was _here_. He heard what sounded like books tumbling to the ground and an audible gasp from unflappable Minerva McGonagall confirming his supposition.

"How do you know—?"

"Professor, I think—I _know_ that Sn—that someone's going to try to steal the Stone," he said in a low rush to conceal his almost-slip, but Malfoy wasn't an idiot. He was going to say Snape. "I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," McGonagall said stiffly. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone but rest assured no one can possibly steal it, it is too well protected."

If Malfoy knew Potter, the Gryffindor wouldn't be appeased.

"But Professor—"

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about. I suggest you all go outside and enjoy the sunshine."

Malfoy had to back-pedal fast as McGonagall stormed in the direction of his corner.

_Page 271_

Malfoy drew in a shaky breath, then set his quill to the scrap of parchment.

_Professor Dumbledore—_

_The Stone is in danger. Please tell no one you received this._

He had only just learned the Stone was in the school but for once he listened to his gut which said Potter was right and someone _would_ try to steal the Stone in Dumbledore's absence.

"Hurry," he whispered to his eagle owl as he fastened the hastily scribbled note to its leg and released it. It vanished swiftly.

"Draco?" He rounded sharply on Pansy Parkinson.

"What?" he snapped.

"What are you doing up here?" Pansy wasn't shy but his unusual anger made her meek.

"Writing home," he growled, pushing past her. "Leave me alone."

He did not need to be around anyone as he struggled to reconcile his rash act to aid a Gryffindor when he was the purest of Slytherins next to Salazar's blood heirs.

_Page 295_

Malfoy eased open the door to the hospital ward and slipped in, grateful for once for his slight build. There was only one bed occupied, but he couldn't see the patient through the stacks of candy and chocolate.

He was almost afraid to narrow the distance but he borrowed Gryffindor bravery and strode closer.

Potter was small and colorless against the linen hospital sheets except his scar which was livid on his white skin. He looked strangely lacking without his stupid round glasses. Malfoy bit down on the urge to find and replace them.

There were light bandages on his hands, but that was nothing compared to the rumors of mutilation and maiming sweeping through the school within the tales of his heroic rescue of the Sorcerer's Stone.

Malfoy briefly touched one wrapped hand. "Get better, Harry," he whispered to the darkness and the silence.

He checked himself from running out because that would make too much noise.

In the far corner of the ward, gold half-moon spectacles glinted over blue eyes twinkling even brighter.

_Page 304_

"This is becoming annoyingly common," Malfoy remarked, regaining his balance. He'd stumbled back to avoid colliding with Harry. "Are you in a hurry?"

"I'm going to be late for the feast," Harry fretted.

"No one will care; you can make a grand entrance." Harry scowled. "I know; you don't _want_ a grand entrance. Still, you can be fashionable."

Harry looked rather irritated, but then he deflated. "I heard Slytherin won the House Cup. Congratulations."

Malfoy couldn't quite smother a pleased grin. "Thanks. You never know; maybe next year you'll come in second."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Because of course we'll never beat Slytherin?"

"Exactly. I gotta go. Pansy will be looking for me. See you at the Feast."

"See you."

"Oh, and Potter," Harry looked up as Malfoy walked backwards. "If you'd asked me about Nicolas Flamel I would've told you about the Stone. Mother made sure I was familiar with all famous wizards."

He smirked at Harry's frustrated groan and turned the right way.

_Page 307_

They met accidentally in the Owlery as they retrieved their respective owls.

"How'd you do on your exams?" Harry asked cautiously, feeding Hedwig an owl treat.

"Well enough," Malfoy answered stiffly. He was clearly still upset about Gryffindor swooping in to steal the House Cup. "Father won't be pleased that a muggle-born beat me at everything, though."

"Hermione beat everyone," Harry pointed out, then sighed. "Look, Malfoy; I am please that we managed to get the Cup, but I'm truly sorry we stole it from you like that."

"I know _you_ are," Malfoy snapped sullenly. "But I doubt anyone else is. It isn't right." He kicked the Owlery wall. "Dumbledore is supposed to be fair and impartial about the Houses. It couldn't be clearer he favors Gryffindor."

Harry wanted to argue that that wasn't true, but he couldn't, really. And Malfoy knew it, too.

They stood in silence, petting their agitated owls, not quite looking at each other.

"So what did Longbottom do?" Malfoy asked suddenly.

"Tried to keep us from going out and losing more points," Harry said with a small grin. "Hermione ended up Body-Binding him. Dumbledore was right about that; it takes a lot of courage to stand up to your friends. _He_ should have gotten the sixty points; I just got lucky."

Malfoy smirked ironically. "I always forget you're Mr. Modest. You represent everything Gryffindor stands for; everyone else just forgets that includes humility."

Harry flushed. "Well, you're not so bad," he said. "Slytherin just has a bad name and self-preservation issues. But," he ran a hand through his hair, meeting emerald and silver eyes reluctantly. "If Slytherin is always passed over for Gryffindor like that, I guess it's no surprise."

Malfoy was stunned, and Harry left with a quiet good-bye before either of them said anything more awkward.

**­/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

**No joke, when I write the tender stuff, like the hospital scene and the first flying on the Quidditch pitch my hand cramps up. Seriously, it's ridiculous. I don't know how I'm going to soften them into a couple.**

**That's it for chapter one and I make no promises for how soon I will update. I hope to get all six chapters out before July twenty-first.**

**Once again, please review, and I hope to see you next chapter!**

**(Update: Thank you Midnight Genius for pointing out errors)**


	2. Chapter 2: Second Year

**Title: Groundwire Remix  
By: Midnight Unicorn**

**Just a reminder, this is a counter to Midnight Genius' _Groundwire_. Check it out if you've got the time and the stamina for absolute mush. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter: unseen through their school years.**

**This entire chapter is their second year.**

**_Underline/italics_ at the head of each section tell you where in the story it happened; page numbers are all from American hardback editions.**

**There will be slash later but this and—I believe—the next chapter is clean.**

**Disclaimer: All names and places are property of JKR, etc, and only the circumstances are mine.**

**Please review, particularly with mistakes you spot and I could use a suggestion for the category(ies) I could list this in. I've got it under Drama/General. Midnight Genius mocked me for that. pouts**

**Now, into the second year…**

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

_I hate him because I can't do anything else. Father wouldn't approve of anything else. No one would let us almost be. And even though it's them I should hate it's him I do because I'm not allowed to love him. It's easier this way, anyway. I hope._

_Page 104_

"Having a bad day, Potter?"

Harry scowled at the blond Slytherin from under messy black bangs. "You aren't making it better."

"What? That Creevey runt? Too good to pass up," Malfoy insisted; Harry glowered even darker, not amused. "Oh, lighten up. It was pretty funny. By the way, very classy entrance; really, one of a kind."

Harry grimaced. "See how well that went over."

Malfoy covered an unseemly large gin behind one slender pale hand, thinking of the Howler. "At least you didn't lose 150 points again," he said when he was sure he wouldn't laugh. "Why, though?"

"Couldn't get to the Platform," Harry mumbled. He had stopped by a narrow window looking down on a bright courtyard lit by golden September sun. From this distance he couldn't see the House Badges sewn to each robe; he could pretend that the knots of students below were not all from the same Houses. Malfoy watched him keenly, wondering what made his gaze so distant.

"You could've owled the school," he remarked.

Harry flushed, embarrassment snapping into his eyes. "That's what McGonagall said," he muttered.

Malfoy didn't muffle the short snicker.

"I thought I'd tell you," he said casually, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "I'm on the Quidditch team this year; Gryffindor's got no chance at the Cup."

"Don't be so sure," Harry scolded, turning to face him. His drawn features were more relaxed than Malfoy had seen since the school year began.

"I know how you fly; you've got no chance," Malfoy taunted.

"You just wait."

Malfoy sighed. "I have to, don't I?" he grumbled petulantly. "I suppose I'll see you soon enough."

"Too soon," Harry replied, just as childish.

_Page 119_

Harry saw Malfoy first and stopped dead.

Malfoy looked up from contemplating a book.

He started to smirk.

Started to, because as soon as the corner of his mouth curled Harry's fist collided with it.

A bad start to the year, Creevey dogging his steps, too early a morning, Slytherins new brooms, Ron's slugs, detention with Lockhart…

Malfoy's sneer was too perfect a target. Harry shook his stinging hand as the blond stared at him, stunned, halfpropped on one elbow from his sprawled position, touching his darkening jaw.

Then a fierce scowl crumpled his pointed face and he flew to his feet, swinging furiously at Harry's head, cracking the side of the Gryffindor's skull.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snarled, crouched to strike again but waiting as Harry made no move to hit him.

"_That_ was for Hermione," Harry snapped. That was only barely true; Malfoy's insult was just one of several factors pushing the adolescent to the edge of control. Better he snaps now and apologizes later than in Lockhart's office. He winced as his head pounded. "Ow."

"I should think!" Malfoy was almost as furious as Harry had been. "I'm not a bloody punching bag." Harry flushed. "Oh, _now_ you're ashamed!" He shoved the smaller boy's shoulders and stormed away.

Harry didn't say anything; there was nothing to say.

_Page 122_

It was because of the coughing. Malfoy had been avoiding Harry—who was just as happy not seeing the blond—and they only met in crowds or classrooms.

Until, of course, Harry heard the coughing.

Normally he did not interfere if another student had a cold, he rather steered clear; it was their responsibility to see Madam Pomfrey for her Pepperup potion, but the hacking sound reaching his ears sounded different.

He walked a little faster and into the nest corridor and stilled.

Malfoy was coughing so hard he didn't even notice Potter watching him as he clung to a wall to stay upright, bag forgotten at his feet, one arm flung over the lower half of his face in a vain attempt to muffle the noise.

"You sound terrible," Harry breathed and Malfoy looked up sharply.

"I know," he gasped as the fit passed. "Get out of here, Potter. I don't—" his vehemence triggered a second coughing spell.

"C'mon; I'm taking you to Madam Pomfrey." Harry thoughtlessly supported the blonde's heaving shoulders, absently scooping up his school bag.

"N—"

"Stop talking. You'll only aggravate the coughing."

"Pot—"

"Just come on. It's not that far—"

"Stop, Potter!" Malfoy pulled himself together to wrench himself away from Harry's support, panting with the effort, torn between scowling and staring at the other boy. "Would it be—" he paused to stave off a third attack before continuing in a lower tone "—pointless to ask if you think before you act?"

"What are you going on about?" Harry demanded, exasperated.

"I'm a _Slytherin_," Malfoy stressed the denomination. "You, a Gryffindor can_not_ take me—" he coughed just once into his elbow "—to the hospital wing."

Harry had stiffened, and then slumped, hating the ever-present reminder. "Oh, yeah."

For once, Malfoy didn't mock his stupid, forgetful idealism—didn't actually have the energy to. He felt like he was seeing Potter for the first time again; it never failed to amaze, confound and confuse him that the boy could be so smart and still fail to perceive House divisions.

"I've got to go," he said quietly. "I was actually already headed to the hospital wing."

Harry nodded, looking at him with bright green eyes. "I'll follow to be sure you make it."

There was no arguing; Malfoy didn't bother trying.

_Also page 122_

Even though rain was imminent and he would become cold and muddy, Malfoy still carried his Nimbus Two Thousand and One down to the Quidditch pitch as evening crept over the grounds. The moon was a waning quarter peering over the dark mass of the Forbidden Forest that cut out the horizon.

There were too many thoughts, too much confusion, and distracting frustration in Malfoy's head. The crisp air of greater elevation always served to clear his head.

Apparently someone else found this peace as well.

Malfoy was too familiar with the zipping, weaving, diving, and drifting pattern of Potter not to recognize the distant flyer.

He thought about going up and showing off the speed of his new broom; he thought of waiting till Potter left; he considered going back inside and coming out another night.

He kicked off into the air, a little unsteady as the muddy grass clung to his sneakers. Potter pulled up to watch him ascend. They gazed at each other steadily for almost a full minute and then spun away in the air.

It wasn't a competition now; they'd have that soon enough. They just soared together, at peace, in synch, with each other, with the rain that began to patter down, even with the world for a moment in suspension.

_Page 131_

Halloween was a clear day, even if the sunlight was pale and wavering, spilling over stone sills, gleaming on drowned grass, sparkling in the puddles collected in the courtyards.

Harry gazed out one of the narrow windows, somewhat depressed by the impending Death Day party, watching people pick their way through the mess left behind by the rains.

This time Malfoy didn't announce his presence; Harry heard his quiet tread and then the silence as he stopped. He straightened from where he'd leaned on the sill, the stone's edge digging a gouge in his elbows, and faced the blond.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Malfoy gazed at him impassively. "What for?"

"Punching you."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Potter that was more than a month ago."

"Still," the Gryffindor said. "I shouldn't have. You deserved it for what you said to Hermione, but that's not why I did it."

If he had cared, Malfoy would have asked why, but he was hung up on the apology itself. "I don't know if you'd be a good Slytherin, or the worst," he said blankly. "You're pretty adept at blind-siding me but it's always for some stupid, noble reason."

Harry shrugged. "Can't I just be a good person?"

Malfoy resisted rolling his eyes at this simplified logic but it was a near thing. "Whatever, Potter. Apology accepted."

_Page 146_

"'You'll be next, Mudbloods?' What the hell is that about?" Harry demanded, finding the Slytherin on the empty Quidditch pitch the day after Halloween.

"Exactly what I said," Malfoy replied coldly, eyes glittering. "Are you going to punch me again, Potter?"

Harry's hands had curled with the urge to do just that but he kept them determinedly at his sides. "Di you do it?"

Malfoy sneered. "Ha. Right; I found a Petrification curse and decided to test it on Mrs. Norris. Besides, rumor has it _you_ did it."

Harry scowled, disgruntled more by the gossip hungry student body than with Malfoy. "Anyone with sense knows that's a load of dung."

"Since when is the general populace gifted with sense?" Malfoy inquired contemptuously. "Well, in this, you've got Slytherin House behind you in a twisted sort of way. Even the idiots know that you don't know jack about Dark Arts like Petrification."

Harry sighed huffily. "That's exactly what I need to restore my good name," he replied sarcastically.

Malfoy laughed aloud, amused.

_Page 166_

Malfoy and Harry were both up early the day of the Quidditch match, two of the first people down to the Great Hall.

"Now I see why you had a hard time eating last year," Malfoy admitted reluctantly as they paused at the base of the marble staircase, pale even for his fair features.

Harry, who was more giddy than nervous at this point, smirked a little at Malfoy's misfortune. "Try the sausage." He suggested helpfully. "It's hard going down, but it'll carry you through the match."

Malfoy pulled a childish face at him. They didn't make the mistake of walking into the Hall together or looking too companionable.

_Page 175_

Malfoy watched Potter toss fitfully in his sleep. He couldn't believe the boy could remain unconscious, grimacing as what he assumed was bone briefly poked up at Potter's skin creating a tent of flesh before diving back down.

"Quite a catch, Potter," he murmured. "You've gotten me into a heap of trouble." He glanced at the arm hanging immobile on one side of the hospital bed. "What an idiot." Now he turned cold gray eyes on the house-elf cringing at his feet. "When he wakes up, explain yourself to him," he ordered.

"Yes, Master Draco," Dobby whispered.

"And you must stop this nonsense, trying to save him. He's not in any danger," Malfoy continued forcefully. He glanced at Harry's discomforted face; the round glasses were missing from the scrunched up bridge of his nose again.

He stalked out.

_Page 185_

Harry saw Malfoy leave the lunch without Crabbe or Goyle the Monday after Collin Creevey was attacked. He excused himself from Ron and Hermione, claiming need of the restroom and hurrying after the blond.

Malfoy smirked when he realized he was being tailed and paused for the black-haired boy to catch up. "Now no one with sense can say you did it; you were laid up in the hospital wing."

"They'll find away," Harry said darkly. "I'm surprised no one's blaming you. You're always going on about being the best of Slytherins."

"Me, too," Malfoy said mock-thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should swagger and smirk and act more suspicious. Honestly, how dumb are our peers that the Boy Who Lived, the epitome of all things Gryffindor, is secretly Slytherin's heir?" Malfoy's gaze sharpened. "Someone's coming."

Crabbe and Goyle came down the corridor a few seconds later as Harry huddles behind a nearby suit of armor, mentally cursing his lost chance to interrogate Malfoy on his own.

_Also page 185_

Harry glared up at the higher perches where Hedwig was ignoring him, giving him a lovely view of the underside of her tail.

Malfoy, seated at the base of the wall, a scroll of parchment spread over his drawn up knees was almost amused.

"It's been more than three months," the Gryffindor complained, head still at an angle to the owl. "She's still ignoring me."

"You crashed her into a tree," Malfoy said distractedly. "When I forgot to feed Arden once when I first got him he didn't take my letters till Christmas." He paused in his writing to reach up and briefly stroke the eagle owl clinging to the sill over his head.

Harry sighed distractedly and gave up, seating himself in a wider window to watch the students far below. "You're writing home?"

"Yes."

"How come you're not going home for the holidays?"

Malfoy frowned. "None of your business." His quill snapped. He threw it aside disgustedly. "That was my last one."

"Here," Harry fished one of his out and slid down to hand it to the blond.

"Thanks," he muttered. He dipped it in his green ink and began writing again.

"Weren't you just writing with your right hand?" Harry asked suddenly, only leaning on the window now.

"Hm? Oh, yes," Malfoy switched the quill to his other hand and continued writing.

"I'd never noticed; you're ambidextrous?" Malfoy nodded absently.

Harry fell silent, turning to look out the window again, nose red from exposure.

A few minutes later Malfoy shifted, blowing the ink dry, getting up slowly. "Your quill." He held it out to Harry.

"Keep it," Harry said, still looking out. "I've got plenty, and you said you just broke the last one."

Malfoy hesitated, and pocketed it, rolling up the parchment and tying it to his owl's leg. He gave it a treat and then let it go.

They both watched him fly away.

"I'd better go," Harry sighed. "Ron and Hermione will be looking for me."

Malfoy now watched him leave, standing in the entrance of the owlery long after Potter was out of sight. The urge to tell Potter why he was staying hadn't been particularly strong, but the fact that he'd wanted to at all confused him.

When he went back to get his bag he found that Potter's snowy owl had her large amber eyes trained on him. He had the horrible feeling she could see right through him.

He hurried away.

_Page 196_

"So…you're a Parselmouth."

Harry grimaced at the harsh tone. He didn't reply.

Malfoy mounted the steps to the aisle below Harry's and sidled between the seats over looking the Quidditch pitch. He sat on the back of the next seat down, putting his feet on the empty seat between Harry and himself.

"How long have you known?"

"I came out here to get away from people," Harry snapped.

"I am not people, I'm Draco Malfoy," the blond fielded instantly, crossing his arms arrogantly.

Harry wasn't amused.

"You don't brood well," the blond tried a different track. Harry stared at him, incredulous. "You don't. Some people brood and the just project 'shove off, I'm thinking deep, dark thoughts' but you just have a 'wallowing in self-pity' air."

"I'm ready to hit you again," Harry growled angrily.

"That's good. I fall and crack my head open and everyone will know you couldn't possibly be Slytherin's heir, because he'd never attack a pureblood."

In spite of himself Harry's lips quivered in a reluctant smile.

"So you didn't know you were a Parselmouth," he said now that Harry was less likely to explode.

The Gryffindor sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, I didn't even know I'd _spoken_ Parseltongue."

"What do you say to it?" Malfoy asked keenly.

"I just told it to leave Justin alone and it did. Couldn't anybody see that?" Anger surged to his voice in a fresh wave. Something to the left snapped. They started; Malfoy almost tumbled back but caught himself. The chair at the end of the aisle tipped forward as its legs snapped.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Frustrated much?" Harry flushed. "What else is going on? Something you're afraid people will find out?"

"They couldn't," Harry said quickly. "I think." Malfoy waited patiently. Harry glanced at him nervously; night was well-established and the moon barely a crescent so it was hard to discern the pale face. "Can I…can I trust you?"

"Not to tell a secret? Yes. I give you my word as a Malfoy."

"How reliable is that?" Harry couldn't help asking skeptically.

"Very, which is why we try not to give it," Malfoy answered blithely.

Harry snorted but his amusement faded swiftly. He stood abruptly, almost startling Malfoy from his perch, shuffling to the end of the aisle and muttering a 'reparo' over the busted chair. It jumped back into position.

"The Hat…the Sorting Hat wanted to…suggested…putting me in Slytherin," Harry said brokenly, trying to put the least dangerous spin on the truth.

"Really." It was impossible to deduce Malfoy's reaction from the soft, mild remark.

That did nothing to sooth Harry. "What if I was supposed to be in Slytherin and the Hat made a mistake? What if everyone's right and I _am_ Slytherin's lost heir and—"

"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy cut in exasperatedly. "You're giving me a headache. Sit down before you pass out." Harry fell unceremoniously into the repaired seat. Malfoy picked his way over and settled in a seat beside Harry. "Quite simply, if you were supposed to be in Slytherin, you would be. The Hat doesn't make mistakes. And as for being Slytherin's heir…_I_ don't think you are, but there are worse fates, anyway."

Harry glared. "That's the best you can offer for comfort?"

Malfoy sneered. "I don't comfort, Potter. I'm simply stating what you already know."

"Great; that's just great." Harry jumped to his feet and took the stairs two at a time in his escape.

Malfoy leaned back in his seat; silver eyes drifting over the stars as he thought what it would have been like if Potter _had_ been Sorted into Slytherin.

_Page 210_

"What're you banging around for?" Harry asked genially when he came back across Malfoy kicking a suit of armor the day before holidays began.

"What are you so happy about?" he snarled back. "Or do you now enjoy having the halls clear as you walk by?"

Now put out of his good humor originating in Fred and George's joking over the very same topic, Harry decided it would annoy Malfoy more to remain amiable.

"Nothing special."

Malfoy's scowl deepened, making him ugly with fury. Then he whirled and stormed away. A scrap of parchment floated in his wake. Harry dove forward with a Seeker's skill and caught it.

It had been ripped vehemently and looked like the end of a letter with a flourished _Lo_—in the corner. The writing was full of fancy curves and loops but Harry picked out '_Ministry rai_,' '_better th_,' and a very clear '_not come home_.'

"Huh." Harry mumbled. "So that's why he's in such a foul mood."

_Page 213_

"What is taking them so long?" Malfoy muttered, stomping down to the Great Hall to fetch Crabbe and Goyle. He slowed when he heard Granger's brisk voice and stopped at a corner.

"Hermione, I don't think—"

"That could go seriously wrong—"

Both Potter and Weasley fell silent in their dissuasion.

"The potion will be useless without Crabbe's and Goyle's hair," she was saying firmly. "You do _want_ to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"

Malfoy's eyes widened.

"Oh, all right, all right." Malfoy couldn't tell if Potter was disgruntled or impatient but he didn't care. "But what about you? Whose hair are you ripping out?"

Malfoy listened to Granger's explanation, and then followed her when she strode by without seeing him. She led him up to the second floor and ducked into the girl's room with the very obvious 'Out of Order' sign. When she opened the door he could see smoke floating near the ceiling. He loitered carefully, listening for approaching feet, watching the door. She came out a couple minutes later, muttering about robes.

Malfoy did not hesitate. He stepped into the bathroom, covering his nose and mouth in the smoky air. It wasn't hard to find the stall the potion bubbled in. He stared at what looked like mud and then at the book helpfully propped open to the correct page.

Polyjuice Potion.

"Who are you?" He turned to see a girl ghost staring at him, a mix of suspicious and sullen. Malfoy knew of Moaning Myrtle only because Pansy had told him—in detail—the horror of the young apparition chasing the female Slytherin from the toilet last year.

"Someone who feels unspeakably betrayed," he answered quietly, walking through her and out of the bathroom. He ignored the knot in his chest as he took short cuts to the Common Room and then back to the Hall.

'Crabbe' and 'Goyle' would need a guide.

_Page 227_

Harry was surprised when Hedwig flew in at breakfast a couple of days after Christmas to drop a note beside his pumpkin juice. It was a scrap of parchment folded in two, written in familiar green ink.

_Meet me on the Quidditch pitch now._

Confused and a little disgruntled—partly from lingering dismay over Christmas night—Harry took a last bite of toast and went out as the note instructed.

Malfoy was there, tossing the Quaffle idly from hand to hand, silver eyes blazing in the winter morning, face as white as the cloudy sky.

"What'd you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, a little impatient; he wanted to get up to the hospital wing to check on Hermione.

"D'you still think I'm Slytherin's heir?" he asked, voice colder than the ice over the snow.

Harry blanched. "What're you talking about?"

"I admit the second floor bathroom was a good choice. No one ever goes in there."

"Malfoy—"

"Just shut up, Potter!" he shouted. "To tell the truth, I was kind of beginning to think of you as a friend. You should at least have _asked_ me." He chucked the Quaffle at Harry; the Gryffindor's hands stung from the impact as he caught it. "I hope you're happy."

He started to walk away.

"You knew the whole time?" Harry asked, gazing at the Quaffle.

"That you were impersonating my closest friends? Yeah. They're slow, but Goyle spends hours memorizing each new password and Crabbe doesn't believe in 'medicine for his stomach'." He laughed but it was mirthless and Harry couldn't miss the hurt under it. Malfoy fell silent. "I'll never understand you, Potter," he said softly. "The perfect Gryffindor and the perfect Slytherin both. You sure fooled me."

This time he did leave; this time Harry didn't say anything.

_Also page 227_

Harry knew perfectly well Slytherin team had had practice earlier in the afternoon and at dinner the last Saturday of January he watched the team come in before fetching his Nimbus and heading out. Malfoy and Flint had not come in, but he figured in the time between the Hall, Gryffindor Tower and the pitch they could have come back.

When he got there, though, his aimless thoughts were suddenly focused on the angry voice lifting over the snow-covered green.

"If you _ever_ touch me again or even _look_ at me funny you'll be in a world of pain you can't even imagine. Get out of my sight." Harry watched with interest as Marcus Flint limped out of the Slytherin locker room, scowling blackly and holding the lower half of his face; blood ran between his fingers.

Harry dropped his broom and strode into the dimly lit locker room.

"M—"

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry hadn't been the youngest Seeker in a century for nothing. He dove to one side. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't follow-up his attack.

Harry got to his feet slowly, hands raised and open, staring not at the wand trained on his chest but Malfoy's ashy face. There was blood around his mouth; the left shoulder of his robe had been torn at the seam and Harry could see a hand shaped bruise on the extended wrist. The wand tip began to tremble.

Even shadowed by his mussed hair Malfoy's silver eyes were over-bright and he was blinking far too rapidly. "Potter." he greeted conversationally.

Then his knees buckled and he crashed to the floor. Harry started forward, alarmed, but the wand rose again. "Don't touch me." Malfoy whispered desperately. "Just…don't."

Harry wavered, uncertain, and then eased himself over to the sink, dampened a hand towel under a warm tap and crept back to Malfoy. He held out the cloth. The blond lowered his wand and accepted it, washing his face.

Feeling foolish still standing, Harry sat carefully on the dirty floor, several feet between himself and Malfoy who arranged himself more comfortably and didn't rise. Harry had no idea what to say so he didn't try. He kept his gaze fixed on his hands limp in his lap.

"Why are you here?" Malfoy finally asked.

"I came to fly," Harry answered quietly. "I heard you threaten Flint."

"That's all you heard?" Harry nodded, glancing up; there were no cuts on Malfoy's face to explain the blood. "Good." He climbed ungracefully to his feet. "Forget about this, Potter. You were never here, nothing ever happened."

"What did happen?" Harry blurted out,

"Nothing." Malfoy repeated through clenched teeth. He hurried out before Harry could ask again.

_Page 232_

Harry was hesitant to go down to the Quidditch pitch early in February, but he went. He checked to be sure no one was there, and let out a breath of relief when he was sure he was alone.

He soared around the stadium, looping through the goal posts, skimming the stands, diving towards the ground and pulling up in the last possible instant.

He was drifting idly almost two hundred feet up when he realized there was someone in the stands. The white-blond head was unmistakable.

He flew down slowly; Malfoy didn't leave. He touched down on the stairs; Malfoy continued star-gazing.

"Flint and Wood used to be friends," the Slytherin said abruptly as if picking up from a lull in an ongoing conversation. "When they were first years; they sat in the same compartment on the way here on the train; they ignored everyone's warnings right up until their first Quidditch match against each other. They've hated each other ever since." Finally Malfoy turned to look at him. "D'you see why we shouldn't even bother?"

"It's too late," Harry said simply. "You're my friends." Malfoy visibly tensed. "I'm going to bother."

Malfoy dropped his gaze. "Don't try too hard," he finally murmured. "Because I won't and if people find out…"

Harry nodded reluctantly. He understood now and wished he still didn't. Propping his broom on a seat he moved down the aisle to settle beside Malfoy. "Where'd you discover that tidbit about Wood?"

"Hogwarts is a sieve when it comes to secrets and glue when it comes to gossip. If it happened, someone knows, and I'm a very good listener," Malfoy replied.

"Are you…" Harry trailed off; Malfoy looked at him curiously, prompting him to continue. "Are you okay? I mean, before…"

Malfoy had gone pale, face sickly in the moons near full glow, and his breath hitched just once, very slightly. "Please, don't ask…don't ask me to talk about it ever. Please, Potter…Harry."

His green eyes widened behind his glasses at the use of his first name to convey the Slytherin's seriousness.

"I won't," he assured emphatically. "I promise."

_Page 234_

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Harry asked suddenly.

Malfoy glanced up. "Is this a trick question?"

The pair was studying Potions in an abandoned classroom, locked magically and manually against intruders. Harry normally would have studied with Hermione, but she was still in the hospital wing and Malfoy wasn't Snape's favorite just for his name.

Malfoy was re-copying his own notes from one roll of parchment to another, asking Harry about definitions, dates, uses and dangers. He was settled at a desk while Harry once again perched on the window sill.

"Aren't you clever," Harry retorted. "I mean about the Houses, do you think I'm an idiot not to want to be so…divided?"

Malfoy switched his quill to his left hand; he could concentrate better this way. "I think you're very noble to want to do something about it, and that's not as nice as it sounds, coming from a Slytherin."

"I like watching other students from high up," Harry murmured.

"I've noticed," Malfoy said dryly.

"So high up it's like they're…well, knots and in each knot would be different color threads. But then it unravels and what I hoped was yellow and green and blue is red and red and red."

"I don't follow," Malfoy said slowly.

Harry sighed. "That's fine. Let's get back to studying."

_Page 250_

The day after Valentine's Malfoy passed through the trophy room and found Harry, who turned away from the awards and plaques and frowned when he saw the blond.

"You didn't have to be mean to Ginny," he reprimanded, but distraction stole his anger.

"You didn't have to pretend to be fine with it," Malfoy replied airily. "What're you looking for?"

"Nothing, technically. I'm just thinking."

"Have fun thinking, and don't strain yourself," Malfoy teased and continued on.

_Page 252_

"I'm so glad the rain finally stopped," Harry said loudly, hanging lazily on the underside of his broom, blood pounding in his ears.

"It had to eventually," Malfoy replied, actually reclining on his broom, perfectly balanced as it drifted, the sun turning his blond hair golden. "What'd you sign up for next year?"

"Mm, Divination…Care of Magical Creatures, I think…I don't know, mostly the same things as Ron."

"The Boy Who Lived isn't much of a pioneer, is he?"

Harry was too relaxed and—at the moment—light-headed as he righted himself on his broom to get riled. "What time were the Hufflepuffs coming to practice?"

"Three till six."

"It's quarter to three. I'm going down."

Malfoy removed a hand from behind his head to wave as Harry guided his broom to the ground. The Slytherin continued basking until a Hufflepuff yelled at him to get out of the way.

_Page 265_

Harry and Malfoy almost collided outside the boy's restroom after supper not long after Dumbledore's suspension, the only time a teacher wasn't accompanying them.

"If you want to be mad at me because of my father, go ahead," Malfoy said abruptly. "And I'm only going to say this once, and I will completely deny it in the future; I'm sorry about Hagrid and the m—Granger."

Harry waited till he was done. "Got it all off your chest not?" Malfoy nodded, a bit embarrassed. "Good; thank you and I'm not mad at you. See you whenever. I hate this shepherding thing."

"Me too," Malfoy agreed fervently, and they continued as if they'd never encountered the other.

_Page 284_

"Exams, I ask you," Harry muttered mutinously, combing the library shelves. "They're mental."

"So you haven't studied either?" An unexpected voice said behind him. Malfoy, taller than him by three inches, stood on tip toe to carefully work a pair of books down. "This what you need?"

"Yeah. Normally I'd borrow Hermione's notes, but…"

Malfoy shifted awkwardly in the pause. "Look, I don't care, but you should check out Weasley's sister. She looks ill."

"I hadn't noticed," Harry said distractedly, scanning the book's table of contents. "Thanks for this, Malfoy."

"Sure." He slipped away. Moments later Ron stood in his place.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked curiously.

"Just complaining to myself about the exams," Harry replied absently.

_Page 339_

Malfoy saw Potter before his companions did. "Go on ahead," he instructed to Crabbe and Goyle, who obeyed. Then he doubled back and looked down the corridor. "Potter!" he hissed at the Gryffindor, almost at the other end.

Green eyes glanced back and then Harry strode towards him. Malfoy's mouth fell open as he saw the state he was in.

"You…you look like you've been in a sewer," he said faintly.

Harry grinned. "Near enough. We found the Chamber of Secrets; Ginny's fine, we got her out safely."

"Is that all?" Malfoy said dryly.

"The basilisk is dead," Harry continued giddily. "Slytherin's monster, I killed it and…I am a Gryffindor. I pulled Gryffindor's sword from the Sorting Hat! Can you believe it?"

Overwhelmed, Malfoy clapped him on one grimy shoulder. "I'm afraid congratulations are in order. You were a hero last year…now what can you elevate to?"

Harry laughed. "How about Saint Potter?"

Malfoy grimaced but the good humor was too infectious to bother much. "Go change; you stink."

"You go to the feast. The got the House Cup again," he added over his shoulder.

"Keep bragging, you fool-hardy Gryffindor. Next year, it's ours."

And they laughed, just because they were carefree, life was as it should be and, quite simply, because they could.

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

**This concludes chapter two. Terrible ending, I know, but that's it.**

**Once more, please review. Hope to see you next chapter. No promises for when that'll be.**


	3. Chapter 3: Third Year

**Title: Groundwire Remix  
By: Midnight Unicorn**

**Once again, this fic is a challenge to Midnight Genius' **_**Ground Wire**_**. Boy do I fail at life; it's been four freaking months since I updated. And here I was, thinking I could put out six chapters before the seventh book.**

**Anyway, each chapter takes place over the course of one school year; this is Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's third year. The **_italics_** at the beginning are one of their thoughts at age seventeen.**

**The **_underline/italics_ **in front of each section tell you where in the book the following scene could have happened; all page numbers come from the American hardback versions. Canon is important to me, and part of the reason this is written as it is, and on that note, I messed with a couple of scenes from the book. You'll see what I mean.**

**Warning: This chapter is still clean for boy love of any tangible level, but it's just round the bend, don't you worry.**

**Disclaimer: all recognizable names and places are property of J.K. Rowling and I am making no money off of this, just a couple of late nights.**

**Please review, love constructive criticism and any ideas anyone might have of the probability of this or that circumstance, and the pointing out of mistakes in canonology and/or spelling and grammar is much appreciated.**

**Year Three: check.**

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

_It shouldn't have come to this. There must have been another way. God, I wish there had been._

_Pre-Page 1_

_Potter-_

_You are completely mental and unbelievably lucky, but I suppose those are Gryffindor traits. I can't get around the fact that you went into the Forest voluntarily, never mind the tiny incident of man-eating spiders chasing and yet managing not to catch you. I swear, a hundred or so years from now, that'll be in _Hogwarts, A History_, and some poor student is going to test his luck.  
Happy Holidays._

_-D. Malfoy_

Harry smiled faintly as he read the brief letter from the blond Slytherin and then looked at Arden, Malfoy's eagle owl. "Can you take a reply now, or would you rather rest the night?" he asked it.

Arden blinked, then hooted tiredly but stuck out his leg pointedly. Harry settled the bird with some water and Owl treats before grabbing a quill and parchment.

_Malfoy-_

_Page 55_

"Potter?"

Harry turned quickly, one corner of his mouth just lifting as he spotted his rival peer within moments of entering Diagon Alley. "Hello, Malfoy. Having a nice holiday?"

"Yes, but…what are you doing here…alone?" Malfoy questioned awkwardly.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, confused and slightly irritated. "You're alone," he pointed out.

"My mum's just at the Apothecary." Malfoy still had that weird, half-concerned frown. "But I mean… haven't you heard about Sirius Black?"

"Yeah, he was on the Muggle news, too," Harry replied. He was starting to get a bit anxious; what was he missing?

"You're not worried?"

Harry shrugged. "Should I be?"

Malfoy glanced around. It was only then that Harry remembered where they were and that in the eyes of the wizarding world they were enemies.

Although…as Harry looked about, it didn't seem as though anyone nearby made the connection that two teenage boys talking amiably in the alley entrance could be the famous Harry Potter and notorious Draco Malfoy.

"Do you want to go out to London proper?" Malfoy suggested quietly.

"Well, Fudge told me not to—"

"The _Minister_ told you not to?" Malfoy interrupted, impressed. "They must be serious."

"Serious about what?" Now Harry was more than a little annoyed.

"Never mind; can you get to London?" Malfoy switched topics.

"Yes, I can. Why do you want to?" Harry asked curiously.

Malfoy shrugged, looking evasive. "No reason."

Harry grinned. "Liar. Just give me a minute to get by Tom, the barkeep."

"Right; I'll tell mother. It's good I'm with her; father would never let me go." He was walking away before Harry could get a better explanation.

He doubled back into the Leaky Cauldron to get his invisibility cloak and waited by the door until someone swung it open enough for him to slip out; sometimes his slight size was useful.

He glanced around and then tugged off the cloak when no one was looking and stuffed it in his pocket, loitering like a normal teenage boy waiting for a friend.

"That was quick," Malfoy announced his presence. He had changed into muggle clothes. They were newer and more fashionable than Harry's too-large hand-me-downs from Dudley but they both looked completely unremarkable.

"Thank you. So; why exactly are you so eager to wander around London? Diagon Alley is much more interesting." Harry picked up the previous subject.

Malfoy scowled. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone."

Harry laughed briefly, sardonically. "Be serious; who you I tell? Who would believe I'd even talked to you?" They were walking closer together than either of them would have preferred but they did not want to get separated in the crowd jostling them on all sides.

Malfoy conceded that point with a slight tilt of his head. "I'm just kind of interested—but not really interested—in how it is Muggles live without magic."

Harry wanted to laugh, because he certainly hadn't expected that, but he didn't because he knew Malfoy would take that the wrong way. "Why don't you take Muggle Studies?" he suggested instead.

Malfoy scowled again. "Are you mental? My father would disown me."

Harry also frowned; that seemed rather extreme to him but from what he'd seen of Lucius Malfoy last year he couldn't exactly refute the younger Malfoy. "So you're secretly just like Mr. Weasley."

Malfoy physically recoiled for a moment, honestly offended. "I am not a muggle-loving nutter," he retorted hotly. "Forget I said anything, it doesn't matter anyway."

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up as he did so. "Whatever. Did you have any particular place you wanted to go?"

_Page 122_

Harry debated whether he should go see Malfoy or not. He was pretty angry with the blond as it was, but he wasn't completely sure the other was alright. Ron and Neville were snoring noisily, making it hard to sleep when he made up his mind.

Throwing off his blanket and locating his invisibility cloak, Harry crept down to the Common Room. Two or three people were fast asleep around the fire. Nota one of them stirred as he slipped out of the portrait hole and picked a path to the hospital wing illuminated by the fraction of the moon peeking through high stone windows.

The ward was unlocked and he opened the door silently, sliding off his cloak at the same time. He barely had time to hide it when the occupant of the far bed sat up. "Who's that?" he hissed loudly into the darkness.

"Hush," Harry scolded. "D'you want to wake Madam Pomfrey?"

There was a pause. "Potter?" Harry moved closer and a bar of silver moonlight fell on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"You're not really hurt, are you?" he answered knowingly.

Malfoy scowled, pale face ill-looking in the half-darkness. "Am too. I don't feel it, but Madam Pomfrey can't get it to close up. She thinks it was something on the beast's talons."

"You should've been paying attention," Harry reprimanded, feeling foolish standing over the Slytherin and sitting on the bed beside him. "Hagrid told us hippogriffs were proud and disliked insults."

Malfoy shrugged with his good arm, gaze sliding sideways, affecting a disinterested air. "Did you really pass out on the train?"

Harry flushed, humiliated. "Yeah," he admitted. "Or near enough."

"Whatever you remembered must've been horrible," Malfoy commented, watching him keenly. Harry hitched his shoulders unhelpfully. "Well, anyway…you had Divination this morning, didn't you?" Harry nodded. "Who was supposed to die in your class?"

Harry's lips twisted into a derisive smile. "Me."

Malfoy looked a little surprised then also smirked faintly. "I suppose that's no stretch, what with Black af—" he cut off abruptly, looking confused like he didn't know how to cover the slip.

"Black being after me," Harry concluded shrewdly.

"Oh, so you know then?" Malfoy sounded slightly relieved.

"Yeah; Mr. Weasley told me." He glanced around, standing. "I'd better go."

"Right." Malfoy looked a little broody as Harry turned to go. "And Potter…" Harry looked back. "Thanks for checking to see if I was okay."

Harry let out an amused little puff of air. "Sure, Malfoy."

_Page 141_

"Whoa!" Malfoy and Harry rounded a corner at the same time. A quick turn on the balls of his feet moved Malfoy out of the danger of Harry stumbling to a stop. "Don't you ever watch where you're going, Potter?"

"Of, hush," Harry rolled his eyes. "You're no better. And what's your problem with Professor Lupin, anyway?"

"What?" Malfoy redirected his train of thought. "Oh, just what I said."

"Who cares about the state of his clothes?" Harry demanded. "I look just as bad in Dudley's old clothes."

Malfoy shrugged, unmoved. "It's different. He should be able to afford at least a better set of second hand robes." He waved aside Harry's response upon seeing the Gryffindor's furious expression. "Just drop it; Merlin, if it bothers you that much I'll leave off him."

Harry eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "He's not that important. I don't suppose you got to practice with you r _Nimbus_ much this summer?" He turned the conversation to the right topic. Harry shook his head; Malfoy stepped around him and continued walking. "I'll see on the pitch, then, six o'clock tomorrow."

"Can you ride with your arm like that?" Harry called skeptically.

Malfoy rotated his shoulder experimentally, walking backwards. "We'll see, won't we?"

"Prick," Harry murmured, surprised to find his voice almost fond. Shaking his head, he returned to Gryffindor Tower.

_Page 142_

Despite his careless zooming around the pitch, Harry kept on eye on Malfoy the first few minutes in the air, making sure the blond could control his broom one-handed.

"Still not healing?" he asked, drifting up to Malfoy.

"Slowly. Pomfrey explained why it was taking so long but it went right over my head." He smirked ironically. "She probably shouldn't've tried to tell me while putting in the stitches."

"Did it hurt?" Harry inquired curiously.

"No, but it was the grossest thing I'd ever seen."

Harry chuckled. "I got stitches once; I think I was seven or so."

"What happened?" Lesser flyers would not be able to converse at their speeds, but even if they weren't the best in the world, they were pretty damn good.

"My cousin was pushing me around on the way home from school once and I fell and sliced my hand on a bit of broken glass." Harry examined his right palm. "No scars, but I couldn't write for the longest time; about a dozen stitches in all."

"Your cousin's a bully, huh?" Malfoy wasn't exactly sympathetic, but he wasn't taunting either.

"Yeah. Although I had him scared a good while summer before last until Dobby used magic and they found out I'm not allowed to do magic outside school." Harry looked regretful for a moment.

"But you blew up your aunt last August." Harry looked surprised. "My father told me. How come they didn't expel you?"

Harry snorted. "Fudge was glad I was still alive."

Malfoy sneered appropriately. "Yes, his image would never recover if the Boy Who Lived was murdered during his term. Probably permanently damaged as it from Black's break-out."

"Wonder how he did it," Harry mused. They spent their time batting theories across the pitch until curfew crept up on them.

_Also page 142_

Malfoy was emerging from the hospital wing when Harry spotted him, massaging his arm, pointed face gathered in a frown. He saw Harry and glanced around unhappily.

She still can't heal it?" Harry asked, low-voiced and hurried.

Malfoy shrugged carelessly, and then winced. "Quidditch practice just agitates it. Pomfrey's saying I might not be able to play in the first game if it doesn't get better quicker."

"But you've got ages, still, till the first game," Harry protested. "And Flint wouldn't take you out, would he?"

Malfoy scowled. "Flint would do anything if it pissed me off." Harry had a sudden recollection of Malfoy, scared and white-faced on the floor of the Slytherin locker room. He also remembered his promise not to ask about it. "Anyway, I'm not going to let up in practice, no matter what she says."

Harry shrugged in acceptance. "If you like. Maybe we shouldn't fly so much, though. So your arm can rest more."

Malfoy nodded. "Probably a good idea. I've got to work on that essay for Potions. I'll see you around, Potter."

_Page 144_

"Malfoy!" Harry hissed, looking around a tall library shelf and the blond turned away from scanning book spines. "Help me."

"With what?" he whispered, frowning as he assessed their surroundings for eavesdroppers.

"Potions; I don't know what I did wrong in class," Harry explained, half-frantic because the essay was due the next day and judging by the numerous cross-outs he wasn't getting very far.

"Why don't you ask Granger?" Malfoy asked softly, examining the scribbles on the parchment.

"At the moment she's liable to bite my head off; she's in over her head with all her classes, but don't tell her that, and—"

"Right here," Malfoy cut him off. "You put in four crickets and a third cup of lily roots, right?"

"No, half a cup, but yes to the crickets." Harry replied.

"Well, maybe you meant half a cup but you didn't put in enough," Malfoy explained. "And the crickets were supposed to be live. That's why so many people got it wrong." Harry groaned. "I'm surprised Granger didn't tell you."

"She was helping Neville," Harry answered distractedly, writing in narrow, scurrying script.

"I see." Harry waved good-bye vaguely as Malfoy eased away into the aisle between the shelves.

_Page 150_

"What's up, Potter?" Harry glanced over his shoulder, halting his already slow pace for Malfoy to draw even with him.

"I can't go to Hogsmeade," Harry explained gloomily.

Malfoy looked shocked for a moment, then it faded as he reasoned out the why not. "McGonagall wouldn't let you go without a signed slip?"

Harry shook his head, and then frowned. "Malfoy, your arm…"

Malfoy grimaced, not bothering to hide it now that Harry had seen. "It's not as bad as it looks," he assured. "Pomfrey took out the stitches to try this cream. It works, but apparently it doesn't allow scabbing. I'm just going to change the bandages and get a Blood-Replenishing Potion."

"Go on, then," Harry insisted, giving the shoulder of his uninjured arm a slight push.

"Worried, Potter?" Malfoy teased, strolling on.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hardly." It was mostly true; Malfoy was in the best hands if something was serious.

_Page 151_

Frustrated with his peers' excitement over the impending Hogsmeade weekend Harry took his _Nimbus_ out to the Quidditch pitch to relax a little. And relaxing meant pushing his broom as fast as it would go in dizzying and death-defying aerial maneuvers.

This plan was altered when he found the air over the stadium already occupied. Familiar white-blond hair flashed in the encroaching dusk, and Harry held his breath as the distant Slytherin executed a difficult mid-air roll one-handed.

"Do you have a death wish?" he yelled as he kicked off and Malfoy pulled up sharply.

"Do you?" Malfoy retorted. "I saw your team practicing in that storm the other evening."

"The match won't be called off because of a rainstorm." Harry countered. "Our team practices in whatever is thrown at us."

"Right. Lightening, hail and gale-force winds are the same as rain. Why couldn't I see that?" Malfoy said sarcastically. Harry snorted. "But seriously, Flint is just as tough as Wood and he canceled last night's practice."

"Better for us," Harry answered unsympathetically. "How's your arm?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and his sleeve up. Where heavy bandages had encumbered the limb for weeks was now only a clean white wrap. "Almost entirely healed. There won't even be a scar in the end. But Flint insisted I keep up the act. And I probably shouldn't be telling you that," he added in an annoyed huff.

Harry laughed and shot up towards the heavy clouds.

_Page 166_

"So what do you think?" Pansy looked at him expectantly.

"Dumbledore's a fool, but he's not stupid enough to hire someone who'd help Black break in." Malfoy replied wearily, getting up, skillfully maneuvering his bag around the arm in the sling. He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle who showed no indication of finishing lunch any time soon. Pansy turned to Zabani to try and sell her theory of how Black had gotten in; unexpectedly Malfoy's gaze caught on Potter's as it drifted past Gryffindor table.

He didn't even consider how exposed his actions were as he glanced pointedly at the door and jerked his head discreetly. Potter lowered his chin in assent and made an excuse to Granger and Weasley as Malfoy strode out. Potter caught up with him a few corridors away from the Entrance Hall.

"What's up?" he began curiously.

"Nothing. Just curious as to how you think Black got in."

Potter rolled his eyes. "That's all anyone's talking about. Did you hear Hannah Abbott this morning?"

Malfoy snorted. "Yeah; a flowering shrub. No accounting it's fall."

Potter nodded, but then his amusement faded. "McGonagall's banned me from going out to the pitch without a monitor."

Malfoy was hardly surprised, but he was not expecting to feel as disappointed as he did. "So no more pre-curfew therapy flights?"

The corner of Harry's mouth quirked but he shook his head. "I've got to go back."

Malfoy nodded tiredly and watched his retreating back.

_Page 169_

Malfoy saw Potter approaching and stopped. Potter slowed briefly, and then marched over purposefully. "I suppose it was all Flint's idea?" he said without preamble.

Malfoy took a step back, surprised the Gryffindor wasn't angry. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Half the team is furious we won't get to flatten Gryffindor and the rest of us are just glad we won't be playing in tomorrow's weather which is supposed to be worse."

Simultaneously, they looked out a nearby window lashed with rain as heavy thunderclouds boiled and brought an early night. "It can get worse?" Harry said in a hollow sort of voice.

Malfoy laughed weakly and patted Harry's shoulder. "Luck to you. You need it, but you seem to have it in abundance."

_Page 183_

"You still awake?" Harry lifted one hand despondently, the only indication he heard the soft query. Malfoy tip-toed into the ward and sat on the edge of Harry's bed, looking ready to run. "Have you slept at all?"

"I keep waking up," Harry answered dully.

"Don't be so melodramatic," Malfoy said bracingly. "It's just one game."

Harry grimaced, turning on his side, back to the Slytherin. "It's not just that."

"Your broom?" Malfoy guessed. "I heard it was smashed by the Whomping Willow."

Harry snorted bitterly. "Smashed is a gentle way to put it. It's humiliating," he exclaimed quietly with unexpected savagery. Malfoy leaned back hastily when Harry sat up suddenly to avoid knocking their foreheads together. "No one else passes out when the dementors are around. They get scared as hell, but they don't faint like…" he flopped ungracefully against his pillow, chest depressing in a loud, heavy sigh. "Like some spineless twit. And…" He gazed at Malfoy's face, taking in the attentive frown and then looked away. "Never mind."

Malfoy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Buck up, Potter. You're probably not the only person to pass out, and it's really not the end of the world." Harry didn't even react to the scathing tone. "Okay, what's really wrong? You're an incurable optimist; that's the only way we ended up friends. What are you brooding over?"

Harry scowled, disliking Malfoy's interrogation, but he kind of wanted to run his fears by someone else without being scoffed at. "Promise not to laugh?" Malfoy nodded without hesitation. "It was…it was the Grim."

Malfoy's silver eyes narrowed. "Like Trelawney's Grim?"

"No…I mean, kind of, but—"

"Harry she's a crock. You're not taken in by—"

"No!" Harry interrupted, slapping a hand over his eyes in frustration. "I've seen the Grim twice, once over the summer before I ever heard of the Grim and I almost got run over by the Knight Bus. And just yesterday I saw it before the dementors came."

Malfoy's pale face was inscrutable, and then he held up two fingers. "Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. I wouldn't worry just yet."

It was such a lame reassurance, Harry couldn't help a brief laugh and he actually felt better. Not much, but it was something.

_Page 189_

Harry was surprised when, visiting the Owlery and Hedwig the Thursday after the match not only did his snowy owl perch on his outstretched arm but Malfoy's eagle owl landed on the ledge in front of him. "Hello, Arden," he greeted cautiously, stroking his great head briefly.

Hedwig nipped his ear in irritation and he turned his attention to her.

"Are you joking?" Arden snapped his beak upon his master's entrance and turned his back on those present. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Did I miss something?" Harry asked mildly.

Malfoy huffed, sneaking up on Arden and reaching out. The eagle owl screeched and took off for higher perches. Malfoy scowled. "I had him out on the grounds and I was talking to Crabbe and Goyle; he wanted attention and took off in a tizz when he didn't get it."

Hedwig laughed, gently stroking Hedwig's chest. "I'm not the only one who pisses off my owl."

Malfoy scrunched up his nose, facing Harry with his hands indignantly planted on his hips. "I _suppose_ I could use a school owl, even though it's so important."

There was a pause and then a 'whoosh' of wings as Arden fluttered down to land on Malfoy's shoulder, looking for all the world as if the Slytherin was another stone ledge. Harry smothered a snicker, but his lips were quivering with a repressed smirk.

"Changed your mind, did you?" Malfoy remarked blithely. Arden bit his ear; the blond grimaced and the owl let go, sticking out his leg. Malfoy withdrew a roll of parchment from his robe pocket and swiftly bound it to the owl.

Harry and Malfoy watched him in silence as he grew smaller and smaller in the vast sky. "Do you realize you're smiling?" Harry queried idly.

"Am I?" Malfoy responded just as vaguely, raising a hand to smooth the curl of his lips. "Sometimes he's my best friend and sometimes he's…"

"Not?" Harry suggested.

Malfoy nodded. "Yeah. Something like that."

_Also page 189_

Malfoy was yawning widely when Harry strolled into the abandoned classroom; he laughed. "Long night?"

"Very," the blond nodded tiredly. "I was helping Crabbe and Goyle with potions last night. I.e., recopying mine twice and doing the Charms that was due this morning. How'd you ditch Weasley and Granger?"

"Hermione's in the library, Ron is catching up on his missed sleep. So," he dropped his bag on a nearby desk. "Transfiguration or Potions?"

"Transfiguration," Malfoy groaned, falling into the seat opposite of Harry. "I've had enough of Potions."

Smiling faintly, Harry freed his _Standard Book of Spells_ from his bag.

_Page 190_

It was just a brief moment; Harry and Malfoy passes right by each other the morning of the Hogsmeade visit in the Entrance Hall as Harry made for the marble stairs and Malfoy headed for the doors, Pansy clinging to one of his arms, Crabbe and Goyle on his other side.

Neither had any intention of acknowledging the other. One foot on the bottom step, Harry turned inexorably back. A moment later Malfoy's head swiveled to glance at him and their gazes met.

Harry waved, a little hesitant; Malfoy responded with a sneer, but it wasn't quite as harsh.

'_Happy Holidays, Malfoy.'_

'_Whatever, Potter.'_

_Page 235_

"Uhg, I forgot my book," Harry groaned as he and Ron stepped out of the Entrance Hall the first day of class after the holiday.

"How do you forget a finger chomping book?" Ron demanded.

"Just give me a minute," Harry called, taking the marble steps two at a time. A t the turn of the first corridor Malfoy suddenly appeared, blocking his path.

He didn't have to stop as the blond courteously flattened himself against the wall as Harry flew by.

"Sorry," he threw hastily over his shoulder as he rounded the next corner.

"Idiot," Malfoy mumbled, struggling with the _Monster Book of Monsters_ in his arms he'd just run to fetch. On the front steps he chose to ignore Weasley as he passed the impatient and scowling red head.

_Page 236_

"So…You and Weasley aren't on speaking terms with Granger? What did she do?" Malfoy leaned against the wall across from Harry peering out a window.

"I got a Firebolt for Christmas." Harry answered bluntly, rubbing his forehead which was cold and clammy from resting on the frosted glass. He smirked only wanly when he heard Malfoy's surprised gasp.

"A Firebolt? Seriously? Merlin, my father won't buy me a Firebolt unless I do better than Granger on all of my exams. Can I see it?"

Harry's amusement vanished abruptly. "No."

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"There was no note from who sent it to me. Hermione told McGonagall because she thought it was from Sirius Black and McGonagall agreed and took it. They're testing it for curses and hexes. I didn't even get to try it out." Harry was scowling so hard it looked like it hurt.

"That's a damn shame," Malfoy remarked sincerely. "Little mudblood should have kept her mouth shut."

"Don't call her that," Harry glared at him.

Malfoy resisted the urge to scoff but backed off. "But seriously, when you do get it back can I give it a go?"

There was a pause as Harry considered saying no because Malfoy's insult to Hermione, but then said, "Sure. I gotta go."

Malfoy frowned slightly. "Where?"

"History of Magic classroom. Lupin is going to teach me how to fight off dementors," Harry replied, shaking off his frustration.

"No more passing out?" Malfoy remarked with a smirk completely lacking in derision.

"That's the thought," Harry nodded, heading off with a wave.

_Page 243_

"They're dead." Malfoy paused, startled, and then continued. This was why he was still up, wasn't it? "They're dead and listening to echoes of them won't bring them back." He stopped again, watching the Gryffindor seated at the base of a suit of armor, dark head bowed as he rallied himself. "You'd better get a grip on yourself if you want that Quidditch Cup."

"That's for sure," Malfoy remarked dryly. Potter jumped.

"Malfoy, what are you doing still out?" He asked curiously.

He hesitated. "I was…making sure you were okay." He sounded to bewildered for his own liking and shrugged carelessly. "Seems I'm too late, though, if you're talking to yourself."

Harry wasn't even annoyed, just hitched one shoulder and his gaze drifted distractedly.

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing the green-eyed boy. "What's up? Lesson not go well?"

"I…well, it wasn't a complete waste," Harry sighed. "I learned something but…"

His voice trailed off. Malfoy frowned thoughtfully. "Are you having trouble getting past your bad memory?"

Harry grimaced, running a hand through his hair and messing it up further. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?" Malfoy asked without thinking.

Harry sneered bitterly. "No, I doubt it."

Malfoy weighed the pros and cons of his next question and went for it. "What is it you remember?"

There was a broody pause. Then Harry looked up, young face far too grave. "I hear my parents the night Voldemort killed them."

Malfoy winced at the Dark Lord's name, slanting his gaze to the floor, unable to hold Harry's. "I guess that is pretty bad; it's not…" he gave up on nonchalance and rubbed his forehead. "I can't even imagine," he said in a strangled sort of voice.

"Good," Harry said harshly, standing abruptly. "Good night, Malfoy." He crammed the last bit of a chocolate bar into his mouth and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

Malfoy unceremoniously fell into Harry's vacated seat, burdened by grim thoughts of his friend's dark past and bothered that it disturbed him so much. But the young Slytherin wasn't the only one troubled that night; Harry lay awake for hours, dwelling as much on his confession as on his mother's voice.

_Also page 243_

"Hey." Harry jerked at the insistent prodding on his head. He straightened his glasses and blinked owlishly at Malfoy.

"Wozamata?" he asked incoherently.

Malfoy tried to smother his smirk, he really did and his voice quivered only once in the face of his amusement. "You have the ingredients for a chocolate-based Undetectable poison on your cheek."

Harry slapped his hand over his face in embarrassment, fully awake. "Why did it have to be in Transferable Ink?" he moaned, scrubbing at it fruitlessly.

"Madam Pince is vindictive," Malfoy explained soberly. Then he turned brisk. "Oi, I know it's a completely radical idea, but try a pillow next time."

"That's not just radical, that's almost blasphemous," Harry replied, mock-sanctimonious. "Don't you know you're not allowed to see your own bed?"

"What can I say? I'm a sinner," Malfoy quipped, shifting the books securely tucked under his arm. "Sleep well, Potter."

"Sleep? What's sleep?" The sarcasm in Harry's voice was almost acidic enough to melt the book of poisons…not really.

_Still page 243_

Harry remained in the stands after the Quidditch game, bundled up in at least two layers of everything, waiting for the familiar blond Slytherin to swoop out of the locker room to do his post-game lap. Harry had never seen him at it, never known he did it until he mentioned it once when they discussed how the season needed to go for Slytherin or Gryffindor to win the Cup.

"I'll think about how the game went," Malfoy had explained. "What I did well, what needs improvement, you know?"

Harry sat back a little as the dark figure wove and rolled lazily in the sky, as natural as a bird. He was suddenly reminded that as much talent as he had, Malfoy had been flying longer and had put more work into gaining his skill than Harry ever had.

And it had showed in his desperate catch to seal Slytherin's win over Ravenclaw.

Smiling and not even aware of it, Harry stood and began sidling to the stairs. His path was blocked when Malfoy landed in front of him.

"Spying?" he asked lightly.

"Yep, you caught me," Harry dead panned.

Malfoy shook his head in disappointment. "Not even able to sneak properly; have I taught you nothing, Potter?"

"I always had trouble taking instruction from a Slytherin," Harry fired back.

"I difficulty following instruction was a Gryffindor trait," Malfoy fielded, throwing his broom over his shoulder as they headed down to the field, He glanced at his _Nimbus 2001_ and then at Harry. "Want to give it a go?"

Harry grinned. "I was afraid you'd never offer."

_Page 245_

"Got all three moons?" Malfoy asked in a loud whisper.

"No, Harry murmured miserably. He stepped back as Malfoy bent to examine the sky through the telescope, adjusting it.

"Right there." Malfoy stood back for Harry to see. "Why didn't you just finish it last night in class?"

"I was trying to finish the Charms," he muttered, marking the moon on his star chart. "How are you keeping up with your studies so easy?"

"We only have Quidditch practice three nights a week and I don't have any dementor defense lessons or Divination." the blond explained, leaning against the cold stone wall, a thick cloak padding his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest. "How are those going, by the way?"

"Not...not as well as I would like," he sighed, noting a few more stars and straightening.

"You're trying a Patronus, right?" It didn't even register to Harry that maybe Malfoy shouldn't know that as he nodded, rolling up his chart. "A Patronus is sixth year level. Don't get too worked up about it not going right." He gave Harry's shoulders a little shove towards the stairs. "Now get some sleep. Homework isn't going away."

"Thanks for the reminder." Harry said sullenly, but they slipped through the halls together until they passed the stairs that took Malfoy to the Slytherin Common Room.

_Page 276_

"Patronus worked better than you expected, huh?" Malfoy applauded himself for not jumping when Harry spoke and turned to face the unfortunately smug Gryffindor.

"I'd say." Malfoy wasn't sure if he should be angry or resigned, and he wasn't sure if Harry wasn't angry under his triumph. "Your broom is fantastic," he added lamely.

"I know. What I don't know is why you tried to scare me, dressing up like a dementor." His expression had gone from gleeful to displeased in a blink. "Flint's idea again?"

Malfoy debated lying for a brief moment, and then replied distinctly un-Slytherin like. "No, it was mine," he admitted as they ducked into an empty classroom. "The dementor part. Flint wanted to sabotage the other players' brooms, knowing he had no chance to get to yours. I knew it wouldn't actually hurt you, anyway."

"No, Malfoy, I am wounded in my heart," Harry bemoaned mockingly.

"Why aren't you more angry?" the Slytherin demanded, puzzled.

Harry shrugged carelessly. "We won, you were terrified and got detention. There's nothing to be mad about." He leaned close conspiritorally. "And don't tell anyone, but I don't expect you to defend me to your dormmates."

Malfoy took a hasty step back, feeling inexpliacably nervous which helped nothing. "Speaking of dormmates, did Sirius Black really try to kill Weasley?"

The Gryffindor shrugged again. "He didn't try very hard after Ron shouted."

"Do you think he was after you?" Malfoy inquired keenly.

"Dunno. Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind." He didn't seem very concerned and Malfoy remarked on that. "Well, he didn't manage, did he? And now Ron gets to be a bit of a celebrity."

"Lucky him," Malfoy stated in a monotone. "I don't suppose I could have a go on the Firebolt?"

"Sorry; I'm still under guard," Harry denied regretfully.

"Shame." Malfoy leaned against a desk; it creaked threateningly but held. "What are you going to do when Weasley is in Hogsmeade on Saturday?"

Harry's thoughts went immediately to his invisibility cloak and the one-eyed witch. "Probably catch up on my homework," he said, affecting a gloomy tone but not quite meeting Malfoy's gaze.

"Have fun." Malfoy smirked. "Don't forget about the night shade's reaction w--" the desk squeaked and collapsed under the Slytherin. Harry, who had been relaxing against another desk, jmped forward in shock. Then he started laughing when it was clear Malfoy wasn't badly hurt. Attempting to glare Harry into silence resulted only in Malfoy laughing along.

_Page 292_

Malfoy wasn't entirely shocked when Arden landed on the edge of his plate and stuck out his leg with a scrap of parchment bound to it.

"Who's that from?" Pansy asked, trying to peer at the note over his shoulder.

"None of your business," he dismissed, reognizing the narrow scrawl and crumpling the note hastily. "Come on, Arden," he ordered the bird, rising abruptly. The owl hooted haughtily but obligingly flapped after Malfoy and perched on his shoulder as he strode out of the buzzing hall.

He glanced at the note in the relative privacy of the Entrance Hall and followed the short command to the Trophy Hall, Arden taking off before he was taken further into the school. Harry was waiting for his arrival and grabbed his arm to drag him into a nearby classroom. Malfoy resisted the urge to free the limb and forced his lungs to inhale naturaly when his breath suddenly caught.

"Did you know?" Harry demanded immediately.

"Know what?" Malfoy countered, tugging his arm loose. "And on that note, what the bloody hell was your head doing floating around outside the Shrieking Shack on Saturday?"

"Never mind that," Harry dismissed impatiently. "Did you know your father was going to have Buckbeak executed?"

"Of course," Malfoy replied coldly; Harry sudden;y felt the blond boy was impossible far away. "My father would seek nothing less than death for a creature who had injured his son."

Harry seized the front of his robes, but abstained from shaking him. "But you're fine! Couldn't you just tell him to leave Hagrid and Buckbeak alone?"

"Open your eyes, Potter!" Malfoy snapped, shoving the Gryffindor back violently. "Do you have any idea how little this has to do with me, or Buckbeak, or even Hagrid?" He could tell by Harry's expression he'd said too much. He ran a hand through his pale hair in frustration. "Look, I love my father; I admire and respect him. But I'm not an idiot. This whole affair with the Committee ismy father proving that even though he's not a school governor he's still immensely influential."

"That's pathetic," Harry snapped.

"What's pathetic is working yourself up over a beast that will just as soon attack you as me," Malfoy retorted.

"I could care less about Buckbeak," Harry growled. "But Hagrid is my friend and Buckbeak matters to him, and I'll help him any way I can."

"Yes, the great oaf who rescued you from the heartless Dursleys," Malfoy mocked cruelly. "Tell me: if my father had presented the letter to you, would you have attached yourself to him like a grasping baby? Love me, love me, someone, please, be my friend. You want to talk about pathetic."

Both boys were breathing hard, eyes blazing silver and emerald, fists clenched and moments away from a brawl.

"At least I don't choose my friends on blood, money, or who their father's know," Harry remarked as icily as a true-born Slytherin.

"You think that's how I choose my friends?" Malfoy demanded furiously. "Shows what you know, you stupid pig-headed prat. Don't even look at me until you're going to apologize."

"For what?" Harry snarled incredulously as Malfoy grips the doorknob tightly.

"For failing to recognize what I count as friendship," he hissed and stormed out.

_Pages 299-302_

Out of habit Harry wandered down to the abandoned classroom he and Malfoy had staked out to study in together. But he found it already occupied.

Malfoy glanced up sharply, startled at first but then he scowled.

Harry hesitated for a moment, and then turned and left.

_next_

When Harry visited Hedwig in the Owlery, Arden swooped down, screeching reprouchfully and bit his ear almost to the blood before Hedwig chased him angrily to the rafters and then out of the Owlery.

_next_

Harry wasn't that thick-headed most of the time, but looking across the Great Hall at Malfoy and the people around him at the Slytherin table he couldn't see how he was wrong.

Crabbe and Goyle sat across from hiim, Pansy Parkinson on his right, Blaise Zabini on his left; Nott, Avery...all purebloods, most very wealthy. At the ends of the Slytherin table were the unfortunate muggle-borns sorted into the house, and the poor students in ragged robes in worse state than any of the Weasleys'.

As he watched them, though, an idea began to worm into his mind. Maybe--

"Harry, why are you staring at Malfoy?" Ron asked curiously.

"Thinking about the match," Harry mumbled the quick lie.

"Yeah, you'll wipe the smirk off his face in two minutes," Ron crowed enthusiastically.

Across the Hall, Malfoy glanced over at the noise, sneering at Weasley's overconfidence. His eyes met Potter's for a moment before the Gryffindor dropped his gaze, frowning thoughtfully.

_next_

"Harry, it's fine," Hermione called exasperatedly as Harry scrambled to his feet, kicking the strap of Ron's bag off his ankle and shoving a last bite of shepard pie into his mouth.

"I know," he mumbled, struggling to control his own bag with one hand and keep pie in his mouth with the other. "It's just..." But the sentiment remained unvoiced as he was out of anyone's hearing range and swallowed the mouthful with difficulty.

Suddenly his bag lightened and he stumbled forward. Books, rolls of parchment and quills scattered, the latter fluttering delicately to the stairs as his ink jar clattered down and shattered at the base.

Harry cursed loudly, staring at the bottom of his bag which had not split along the seam which was hardly uncommon, but was shredded. Knowing even before he turned to look up the stairs, Malfoy was sneering down at him, arms crossed over his torso, wand tapping his shoulder lazily. Harry snarled, but Malfoy whirled away and was gone before Harry reached his wand...which was twenty feet below in a puddle of ink.

_Page 314_

They met the evening after the match, broom in hand.

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted suddenly, voice overloud on the silent pitch. "You were right, I didn't know what was a friend to you. You were wrong to insult Hagrid; he is none of your business. And I know you can't control you father, but I'm not sorry about what I said concerning that."

"You're being unusually mature, Potter," Malfoy remarked snidely. "Did Granger slip you something? Or do you just need help studying that badly?"

"I mean it," Harry said, though he gritted his teeth. "And I want you to apologize, too."

"What for?" Malfoy's disdain instantly turned to incredulity.

"For ruining my bag," Harry explained evenly.

They stared each other down, Harry willing him to give, Malfoy refusig to do so. Finallyhe turned up his nose in an arrogant sneer. "You deserved it, acting like a fool over your broom."

Harry arched an eyebrow as the tension bled away. "It's a good broom; you said yourself Flint wanted to tamper with them."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That was months ago, Potter. Show me again how good that tree branch is," he added, mounting his broom and kicking off.

He pulled up sharply when Harry brought his broom up in front of him. The Gryfindor held out a hand; Malfoy was reminded of the train ride so long ago. "Friends?" he said, only a faint twinge of uncertainty in his voice.

Malfoy's heart jumped into his throat as he clasped the boy's hand. "Friends," he agreed quietly one hundred and fifty feet in the air.

_Also page 314_

When Malfoy was truly focused on studying he didn't get distracted by much. Gregory and Vince sometimes called his name three or four times when he was working on something interesting.

Lately, though, Potter had been a distraction, which was bad as exams were bearing down on them. He wasn't doing it on purpose; he'd shift because of an ache, put his quill down because his hand cramped, mutter aloud without even noticing it. Malfoy would look up and even after Potter settled down he'd still watch him.

He ruine dhis Charms notes, spotting it with ink when he stared at the dark-haired boy for several consecutive minutes. He cursed when he realized this and Potter looked up.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I forgot I was going to meet Vince and Greg in the library," Malfoy lied as he threw his things into his bag, unable to look at Potter.

"Right, well, thanks for helping with the Charms."

Malfoy noticed how quick Potter returned to his studying as he left and then kicked himself for noticing.

_Page 316_

Malfoy stared out over the lake, dangerously close to curfew, barely noticing the giant squid gliding across the surface as he stroked Arden, perched on his shoulder.

He had always thought he had a good deal of self-control; maybe he was a bit tepid about some things, but who wasn't when punishment or the Forbidden Forest were involved? But this obsession seemed beyond said control.

And Malfoy disliked the word obsession because it brought to mind creepy shadow stalkers, which he was not. But it seemed he could never stop his mind from drifting to Potter unless something required his full attention. He found himself wondering when Harry was doing, looking for him in likely places, turning to his voice or laughter, thinking of ways to make Harry look at and think about him.

"What is wrong with me?" he whispered to his owl. "Why can't I get him out of my head? He's not that attractive, or smart, or particularly wealthy. He's good on a broom, he means well, but he's impulsive. I'm thirteen; why should I care about anyone?" His owl hooted apologetically and began preening his pale blond locks as the wind tossled it. "I don't even understand what Pansy's all about."

Malfoy kicked dispiritedly at the grassy shore and began to return to the school. Arden took off to hunt for the night, bidding farewell with a hoot.

_Page 423_

Harry was so focused on his destination he strode right by Malfoy. Before the blond could come up with a reasonable excuse to hail him, the Gryffindor paused and glanced back, and then turned to face him fully.

"You now about Lupin?" he demanded, low-voiced and tense.

Malfoy took a step back in surprise and nodded cautiously. "Snape told someone; Pansy told me. Is that where yuo're going now? To see him?" Potter nodded, mind clearly elsewhere but he wasn't rude enough to just walk away. "Aren't you...er, concerned at all?"

"Of course I am. He shouldn't have to leave, he's the best Defense teacher we've had in three years." Harry exclaimed vehemently.

"But he's a werewolf," Malfoy replied, incredulous of Harry's disregard of this rather important fact. "He was loose in the Forest last night; imagine if some adventurous young Gryffindor curiously like yourself had been on the grounds."

Harry couldn't respond without giving himself up; he turned his face away and muttered, "I don't care. He never hurt me. Later, Malfoy."

"Hang on," Malfoy called, desperation laced with jealousy leaping to his throat as Potter rushed to someone else. "Did you hear what else happened last night?"

"What?" Harry prompted impatiently.

"Two escapes, Black and Buckbeak. The--er, Hagrid must behappy about that."

Harry regarded his oddly tense expression slowly, and then hitched a shoulder in assent. "Yeah, he told us. That's how I found out about Lupin leaving."

Malfoy let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and gestured in the direction Harry had been going. "Go on. You might miss him."

Harry waved good-bye hurriedly and took the invitatioin.

_Page 428_

"Oi, Potter." Harry glanced back around the corridor he'd just crossed returning to Gryffindor Tower. Malfoy picked up his pace to reach him quicker. "Did you just come from the Owlery?"

"Yeah. You're not taking Arden in already, are you?" He doubled back to walk with the blond.

"No, he hates a cage and the train. I send him home with a letter and he just won't come back."

"I see."

"But that's not why I called you. What did you do to Snape? He's always despised you, but lately the mention of you makes him practically murderous." Malfoy was analyzing his face like that would give him the answer.

Harry shrugged. "Search me."

"I am. You know exactly why he's furious." Malfoy replied with alarming conviction. "You can't lie that well."

Harry refused to show how he was unnerved by Malfoy's perception, but reminded himself it wasn't terribly surprising. "Can't tell, either."

"Why not?" Malfoy demanded petulantly. Arden hooted reprovingly as they reached the Owlery and he came down to a lower perch.

"Dumbledore made me promise." Harry hoped he bought that fib.

Malfoy screwed up his face. "What does the Headmaster have to do with it?"

Harry shrugged again with a mysterious, annoying little smile. "Search me."

_Page 434_

Malfoy watched Potter disappear through the barrier, flanked by Granger and Weasley.

He had a crush on Potter; he finally admitted it to himself. He had a crush on another guy and it had to be Harry bloody Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

He sighed, looking for his mother. Life was going to get so complicated.

**That's all, folks. I'll probably see you on the other side of Deathly Hallows. Once again, please review, and point out spelling and grammar errors.**


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